


revolting doubt

by kitchensink (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Hannibal, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Power Play, Riding Crops, Sexual Violence, Top!Will, but its more like "disgusting talk", it goes top!will to bottom!will Sorry, lol i guess i'll aslo put
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kitchensink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But, he found, standing over the man and flexing his hand around the handle of riding crop while staring at blood drops staining the white carpet, maybe he could be doubted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	revolting doubt

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN. this is probably terribly ooc but i dont care???? i just dont GIVE a damn i just wanted to write some DISGUSTING hannigram
> 
> ending is awful bc??? how end

The first time it happened, Will found himself unsurprised, oddly, though from that point onward, it felt as if he might never be jarred out of a state of shock. Even in the minutes before a sexual encounter, Hannibal was a collected man, having claimed briefly before peeling off his layers of clothing that "he could not be broken." Broken, in the terms of their particular sex, was this: breaking the roles they had set. Will hardly had a problem, and Hannibal seemed the same way, ready to be hit and whipped and abused, but always claiming beforehand that he "could not be broken."

Will hadn't doubted him in the slightest, simply shrugged and scratched at his jaw, sitting on the edge of an expensive mattress in his pants with his shirt (bloodied and torn) tossed onto the ground. Doubting Hannibal and his words was something Will had recently ceased doing at the time - in the end, it only made for more trouble, and while trouble could often be appealing, in the case of a cannibal with a twisted sense of mortality, it wasn't. But, he found, standing over the man and flexing his hand around the handle of riding crop while staring at blood drops staining the white carpet, maybe he could be doubted.

Curiously, after sex, after cleaning, and after making sure nothing was too terribly hurt, Will didn't think about doubting him again. Once more, when play was over, so was the time to entertain thoughts of doubt. Of course, that was not to say he didn't have them - he did, almost constantly, always accompanied by the ringing of bells in his head as if to say "do not do this, do not do this." He would shove the thoughts into the recesses of his mind, lock them in a cage with a muzzle, and forget about them. But then, when pulled behind the heavy oak door of Hannibal's bedroom, the lock clicking loudly into place behind him, the thoughts tore from their binds and screamed.

Each time they did this, Hannibal claimed he could not be broken - until recently, he had been mostly correct. On two occasions, Will had worked him to the point of a growl or a "let me". However, for some reason, perched on the edge of the bed in just his pants while across the room Hannibal prepared, he felt maybe that this time, he could break him. It was an interesting thought; one that was quickly followed by the thick voice in his head humming, "because you doubt him, now." Perhaps it wasn't best to base his doubt solely off what happened during sex, but the more it rolled over in his head in the few sparing seconds before he made his first move, the more it made sense.

So, with the heel of his shoe digging into Hannibal's abdomen, and a gun firmly held in his hand, he stated, "I doubt you." There was no reaction beyond the slight tilting of the cannibal's head, and a familiar glint in his eye; even without words, he had asked "and why do you think that, Will?" Getting into his head was something Hannibal was good at, Will couldn't deny, but now, with him having the upper hand, with him being in charge, it wasn't Hannibal's place to be getting into heads. Will's hand tightened, but he didn't raise it - there was a time and a place for everything, and now wasn't it.

"I doubt you because," he started, digging his heel in harder and watching with sick satisfaction when Hannibal squirmed uncomfortably, "you will flinch at the sight of your own blood." Will lifted his foot, providing momentary relief, but quickly placed it against Hannibal's cheek, tipping his head to the side and applying pressure to the step, squishing part of his head into the carpet. Blood dribbled out from the corner of his mouth and made a small pool on the carpet. Hannibal tensed, made a small, pleasurable noise, but said nothing. "If I cracked all your teeth and stepped until your eyes fell onto the floor, would you be upset? Would you kill me?" Maybe it was the power of being able to do whatever he pleased, or maybe it was the way that this was somehow turning him on, but Will found great joy in causing his doctor pain. 

To answer his question, Hannibal gave a small, "Hmmhmm," obviously hoping that would suffice. For a moment, Will almost let up, but quickly changed his mind, grinding his foot slowly and watching with interest at the look on the others mushed face. "Wwwhhh," he choked, shifting on his back slightly, arms curling. Will remained silent, the slowly pulled his foot away - after all, this was sex (fucked up, disgusting, terrible sex), and he couldn't mess up Hannibal too badly. It would raise a suspicion. Now, instead of stepping on him elsewhere, Will retrieved the crop.

"You probably would," he said, answering his own question as he gestured for Hannibal to sit up on his knees, "because your sick. Because you'd love to dissect me, to rip my bones from my skin." Switching the riding crop from hand to hand, Will watched the other. Hannibal sat up on his knees, cheeks swollen and blood drying at the corner of his mouth; his eyes were trained on Will, still firm and blazing, as if he was unfazed at all by this; his underwear strained with an erection. The urge to grab him by the hair and crack his face against his knee surged through Will; he could kill the man if he wanted to. The gun was loaded and on the table near him, and Hannibal was in a docile state. It wouldn't be hard, not at all. With a quieter voice, dragging the crop over the older mans shoulders and up his neck, Will asked, "would you eat me?" 

Below him, Hannibal shivered, eyes closing briefly and looking vaguely messed. It was answer in itself, making Will's nose wrinkle in disgust but stomach pool with arousal. "You're disgusting," he said quickly, suddenly pulling the crop away, then bringing it back down with a smack against Hannibal's chest, "you disgust me. You're absolutely revolting." Obviously, this seemed to hit a nerve - no matter how small - within the other, because he tipped his head up, looking serene and said, words rough and garbled slightly,

"Then do something about it, Will."

Whatever it was about the sentence, be it the way it was said, the way he looked when saying it, or the how afterwards the messed look returned, made Will step forward and grab Hannibal by the hair. Usually, even when he knew that he could be commanding, he could demand, it frightened him, and he would never. But now, angry and aroused and wanting for something, he snapped, "Stand up." When the other man was on his feet, Will stepped back an inch, drew his arm back briefly, then cracked his knuckles on Hannibal's nose. Blood splayed across his fist, his teeth grit, eyes dilated. Obviously, having not expected it, Hannibal snapped back, losing his balance briefly and reeling, reaching a hand to steady himself. 

Before his head could clear itself, Will once more grabbed him by the hair, pulling him forward and attacking his lips. Angrily, he bit at his lips, Hannibal simply remaining passive and dazed as Will lapped at the blood staining their mouths. When he pulled back, lips red and face set, he spoke again, voice rough and soft and, if he wasn't still recovering from the punch and the kiss, Hannibal would have thought it "oddly childish."

"Do you think," he asked, pushing Hannibal back onto the bed, so he could sit, "that I could be disgusting, too? Revolting? I could eat myself along with you." Positioning himself, he pressed one knee onto the plush mattress and the other hard against Hannibal's dick (much to the others obvious dismay), Will dragged a hand over the bruises blooming on his partners cheek. He thought of what he wanted to say - he wanted to make Hannibal break; break his role, break his neck, break anything. He wanted to see the power shift - hell, maybe he just wanted to win. So he did the reasonable thing; he rolled his knee against the other man's erection and said lowly, just above a whisper, "But I'd only do it if you'd fucked me before." 

The words hit their mark, dead on; Hannibal's hand went straight to Will's waist, his body twisting to throw off his weight over, effectively flipping Will onto the bed beneath him. Now was Will's turn to say nothing, but feel smug satisfaction at the fact that his doubts had been correct - Hannibal was breakable, he'd broken his "role", and, Will assumed, with the right pushing, he could break himself, too. 

So, Will relished in the hard sex that followed, his legs spread wide and Hannibal's hand at his throat to keep him pinned and breathing shallowly, though he still tried to speak when prompted. With the breaking, it was no surprise when Hannibal barely tried to prepare him and simply took him the hard and painful route - it was also no surprise that he enjoyed it as, in fact, it was more of a reward than a punishment, since he'd finally managed the previously impossible. 

Afterwards, after cleaning, after tending to wounds, after making sure that neither had overstepped their boundaries, after a nap together and after a shower, Will rested on a stool in Hannibal's kitchen, wearing sweatpants and nothing else, watching as the other slowly sliced meat. He cleared his throat, and Hannibal looked up, cheeks still swollen slightly and obviously bruised, "Yes?"

Will toyed with the thought, and even felt vague satisfaction in thinking about it, however wrong it may feel, "Would you eat me?" 

Hannibal held his gaze, thinking for a minute before his lips twitched up and he returned to cutting meat into thin slices.

"Absolutely."

And Will didn't doubt him.


End file.
